She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. It was—in connection with this man Hill. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. In the matter of his conscience he was primitive; and for an educated man to become primitive is to become something of a child. . The dress came to her only too manifestly unwashed from its former wearer; even the under-linen they gave her seemed unclean. On examining the door, he found it secured by a large rusty lock, which he endeavoured to pick with the nail he had just acquired; but all his efforts proving ineffectual, he removed the plate that covered it with the bar, and with his fingers contrived to draw back the bolt. She used his own gun against him, a method that was occasionally cleaner than slitting throats when she got it right. The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side.
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